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| Eating outside |
On the Fourth of July weekend, we naturally think of outdoor activities. I come from a tradition of summertime backyard potluck picnics. Sister Harriet remembered those better than I. I don’t really know that these picnics happened as often as she said, but maybe they did in the era before air conditioning and television changed our lives forever. And it’s not just that either. As the people involved began to pass out of the picture, the group dynamic changed.
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| Breakfast in the backyard |
Eating outside can be fun but involves some work – setting up tables and chairs, carrying out the food and utensils, then carrying it all back in and cleaning up. Back in the day, my parents had help from my older siblings, but of course, everyone would help.
And when it came to the food, I think we didn’t make so much of it as we do today. Perhaps someone fried chicken and someone else brought potato salad. Beyond that, it was no big deal how it fell together. It was not a barbecue but a summer potluck picnic. Everyone just brought something to share. Harriet said one of the reasons for these gatherings was to share the bounty of vegetable gardens.
If
we had such a picnic today, I wouldn’t be sharing from my garden. Nothing much
is happening there. “In the cool, cool, cool of the evening, tell ‘em I’ll be
there,” but I’ll have to bring icebox lemon pie or Rice Krispy treats or a bag
of chips. KW
I'll come to the picnic with the lemon pie! There were several backyard parties in our neighborhood last night. I don't know if they were potlucks, but probably BBQs at least.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know you liked lemon pie so well, and I failed to make one while you were here.
ReplyDeleteGiven all the enticing dessert options, lemon pie hasn't made it to the top of the request list, but lately it has sounded really good to me.
ReplyDeleteP.S. Did Grandma dye her hair?
Are you asking if my mother dyed her hair? No, she didn't. She didn't believe in it. Her hair didn't turn a pretty white either. She had a lot of dark in it.
ReplyDeleteI don't know anyone in my family who color treated her hair. My dad did once, though. LOL
Yes, that was the question. It looks like she had VERY black hair, which seems surprising on someone so fair. I like it when people let their hair be natural.
DeleteI LOVE lemon pie!
ReplyDeleteAs one whose hair has not gotten grey, I know many people think I dye mine. Some have asked what color I use and are shocked when I say it's my hair. There's getting to be some grey if you get up close, so maybe I'll be seen as natural now. LOL
That’s fantastic! Did your mom or dad also retain color for a long time? I have a few whites that wave at me from time to time. I have/had some coarser red hair interspersed and I think those are the ones turning white. So I’m trading red highlights for white highlights and I think it’ll be an amusing transition through the years.
DeleteChris -- As I recall, your mother's hair was much the same shade as yours, and hers stayed a natural color as well.
ReplyDeleteI remembered what my mother said about dying one's hair. "Never dye your hair. Once you start, it never ends. And it looks terrible as it grows out." My second-grade teacher dyed her hair, and Mother said that lady believed that children responded better to a more youthful image. Mother disagreed, though, that dying one's hair makes one look younger.
Mom's hair was much lighter than mine, at least as mine is now as it has gotten darker and darker, but yes, it stayed the same shade. If you got right up close to her and looked, she had grey around the sides but it blended in so well it was very hard to see.
ReplyDeleteA funny side story. The top three people at the school district office here were all women and they all dyed their hair. My principal had to go to a meeting and came back saying she thought she'd just been at a meeting with three skunks--they all needed a touch-up and under the fluorescent lights their white roots really showed!
Funny about the teachers' meeting.
ReplyDeleteI've told this story various places. A friend, a woman of mature years, dyed her hair a deep shade of auburn for years. Saying nothing to anyone, she let it grow out. She had lovely thick hair, and it came in a beautiful white. She went to Seattle to visit her son, and the agreement was that he would pick her up at the loading zone. However, he didn't recognize her. She didn't see well, so she didn't know he kept passing by. Thankfully, he eventually recognized her.